Meanwhile Giacomo Carrara's prudent brain had rapidly concluded it would be most to his advantage, at least for the moment, to side openly with Della Scala, even in this wholesale fashion.
"I too am of the same mind," he said pleasantly and frankly. "All I have is thine, Della Scala."
"Then in a few days I will march on Verona!" cried Mastino, "and with thy generous aid I shall recover it! My heart is too full. I cannot speak my thanks," he continued, "but by my honor and my sword I swear, thou d'Este, thou Carrara, and thou lady, shall never regret thy trust in me."
CHAPTER TWELVE GRAZIOSA'S LOVER
In the courtyard of the painter Agnolo's house in Milan, the sunshine fell strong and golden, sparkling on the fountain that rose in the center from its rough stone basin, and throwing the waxen blossoms of the chestnut into brilliant relief against the sapphire sky.
The courtyard was of stone. Around three sides ran the wall, one with its door into the street; opposite was a large garden, entered by an archway, the wicket in which stood always ajar.
The fourth side of the quadrangle was formed by the dwelling-house, which stood with its back to the ivied walls, itself a long, low building, the upper half of which, jutting above the lower, was supported on pillars of carved stone.
Around the bottom wall ran a wide border of plants, some climbing, others heavy with brilliant blossoms, trailing along the ground, and in the cool, blue shadows in the recess formed by the projecting story were large pots of spreading ferns, vivid green, mingled with the spikes of bright scarlet flowers.